A Prayer Answered
by Dark Austral
Summary: Ellen never pictured meeting a angel in the dusty, run down scrap yard of Bobby Singer. A little snippet set in season 5, the night before the gang goes to fight Lucifer in Carthage. POV from Ellen.


**Disclaimer: **Don't own any of these characters.

**A/N:** A little missing scene from way back in season 5 with 5x10, before the crew heads out to fight Lucifer with the Colt. It's from Ellen's POV. I miss her still and this episode still makes me cry.

**A Prayer Answered**

Usually when a person meets an angel, there's some life-changing event going on. Whether it's a comet, supernova or some random earthquake, something biblical happens. It doesn't help either that the special person coming face to face with a Heavenly messenger is a devout innocent conducting a chore like getting a bucket of water or planting some vegetables. Either way, Ellen is pretty sure that the ramshackle, clutter, dusty filled air of Bobby's living room doesn't meet the criteria.

But then again when does anything go according to the book. The set-up is simple, Bobby and Sam easing everyone into the situation of killing Lucifer. Dean stands off to the side his gruff voice, something Ellen finds herself wondering if it's permanently scared from endless screams, snaps with impatience. "Whatever man, just get your feather butt over here."

Precisely a moment later as the elder Winchester snaps the phone closed, a lean man stands close beside him. A faint bellow of fresh mountain air sweeps through washing Ellen with a calmness that numbs her. She and everyone give a tiny start at seeing the strangely clad stranger in an office suit and a worn-down trench coat. Dean merely rolls his eyes and gently pushes the man a few inches away from him.

"Dude," warning tinges Dean's voice.

The man bows his head in apology, "I am sorry."

Green eyes glitter with mischief. "Somehow I'm beginning to think that maybe you do this on purpose."

The man's eyes crinkle ever slightly. Jo instinctively reaches for her knife and that's when mother and daughter find themselves frozen. Blue eyes flash from Dean's face to them, caution deepening beneath their pools. The angel shifts, angling himself in a manner that places him between the Harvelles and Dean. Tilting his head downwards slightly, blue sharpens into sapphire shards hinting at something beyond their meager existence.

As if sensing the tension, Dean sighs, shaking his head. Clasping a hand on the stranger, Dean quickly introduces the women. "Ellen, Jo. This is Castiel, rebellious angel of the Lord. Cas, these fine, dangerous gals are Ellen and Jo. They're fellow hunters."

The predatory gaze immediately drops as if Dean's words are good enough for him. Shoulders relaxing the angel known as Castiel, which becomes Cas after a few drinks, bows his head in respect. "Hello Ellen…Jo."

Ellen nods, Jo following suit, neither knowing what to say to an actual angel. Bobby coughs signaling a flurry of movement. With the band of warriors all present, Dean takes point, issuing out his plan for entering Carthage. He speaks fast and concise, letting Sam expand or add on any other details. Bobby and Jo listen intently staring at the map while Ellen watches out of the corner of her eye, placing herself between Jo and Castiel. Castiel merely stands a bit off to the side, near to Dean but far enough not to invade his personal space. The pale smooth face is blank, yet those eyes narrow, darkening as they soak in everything like a computer. The angel seems small when standing next to the Winchester men, but next to her he seems to tower with restrained power thrumming around him.

Bobby points out something sending Sam and Dean stuttering to find an answer while Jo tries to hold back a snicker. With the small break, Castiel's face tightens briefly as his eyes flash up at her. Something cold pierces into Ellen, opening up her soul to bare itself in front of the angel. Coughing, Ellen breaks the gaze crossing her arms to hide the small shiver running down her spine. As she fixes her attention onto the conversation, the older Harvelle notices Dean sparing a glance at the two of them a knowing smirk on his lips.

* * *

Dinner was nothing special, just a free for all on the wobble square table. Ellen can't remember much merely that while they were eating quietly all the action was happening near the end. Sam's puppy eyes shown with pity as Dean mastered a balancing act between inhaling his own food while piling everything onto Cas's plate. The angel could only watch as every inch of white was covered.

"Try this, Cas."

"I'm fine, Dean. Sustan-"

"Can it, dude. You're trying this."

"Dean! He might be allergic to that!"

"It's just peanut butter Sammy. He's an angel, for crying out loud. If anything, he's allergic to devilled eggs."

And thus dinner pushed onward till everyone had their fill. Even Castiel's plate was empty, without a bread crumb to spare. It seemed the angel had a liking to peanut butter and apple butter sandwiches. With mere looks from their elders, Jo and Sam immediately wash the dishes while Dean coaxes Cas into clearing the table with him. Ellen finds herself settling into the worn-out leather seat with Bobby in the study watching the action unfold.

She didn't know what to make of the angel. He seemed a bit unfriendly, closed and too serious for her taste. Whatever Dean, Sam or Bobby saw in him, she had no clue what so ever. All she cares about is making sure Jo is safe, cause if that creature threatened a hair on her daughter's head, Ellen would smite Castiel, angel or not. Chuckling, Bobby locks his weary eyes on her shaking his head.

Resting his forearms on the arm rests of his wheelchair; the man speaks softly so the others won't hear. "He's on our side, Ellen."

"Oh really?" Ellen can't help the sarcasm.

"Dean trusts him and that's good enough for me." Trust shines out beyond the words.

Running a hand through her hair, Ellen can't switch off her maternal instincts. "Despite him being the one to pull Dean out of the Pit, it ain't good enough for me."

A yelp blasts out from the kitchen. Dean twists his body as a wet towel snaps at him. "What the hell Sam!"

"Stop eating food off of other people's plates Dean!" Sam bantering tone at his brother overshadows Jo muttering in the background.

"You guys are pathetic. I mean really, men can't properly put away the dishes."

Dean snaps back, "Hey, that's a perfectly good waste of pie right there!"

Meanwhile, Cas stands quietly in the corner of the dining room, eyes studying the event playing out before him as if it held the secret of the universe.

"Be easy on him, Ellen."

Bobby's sad tone pulls at the woman's curiosity. "Why?"

"He's pretty much the most wanted angel besides Lucifer." Bobby pulls his gaze away from Ellen, locking on the slim figure. "He turned against his family and has been hunted by them all because he's helping Dean in trying to stop the Apocalypse."

A light switch turns on. Berating herself, Ellen's eyes widen as the mystery that is Castiel unfolds before her. The stoic face is merely a mask for underneath the flat eyes longing reigns supreme. The slumping of his shoulders isn't because he is trying to relax; it's due to fatigue and a heavy burden she can't begin to understand. Standing there in the mist of what was left of her family; Cas looks like a lost sheep. Dodging another lash, Dean swings himself around Cas, hiding behind the slightly smaller man.

Dean snaps out, eyes narrowed in a playful manner. "Cut it out Sam!"

"Oh, I'm so scared. At least I'm not the one hiding behind an angel!" mocks Sam, laughter heightening his voice.

"Caaassss!" Dean almost whines. "Smite him!" Truly, sometimes it was hard to believe that Dean and Sam were grown men when they acted like 9 year olds.

Total bafflement scrunches the angel's face and a smile blooms on Ellen's face. "Why?" He's adorable in that moment, like a small child trying to understand the complexities of the adult world instead of some mighty warrior of God. "Sam is right; the five-second rule is a myth. Then again, why humans would want to eat food off the floor-"

Dean surrenders, his head hanging down as he painfully pats Cas on the back, "Fine, fine. Never mind. Man, how the hell did I end up with Geek Man and Nerd Boy."

Grinning at his brother and the lost tilt of the angel's head, Dean makes his way to grab Sam, dragging the other Winchester into a separate room discussing future matters. Spotting her chance, Ellen walks forward trying not to think about how strange it was to see Dean patting and invading someone else's personal space. The Dean Winchester she knew would never do that and it only served as another remainder of how much the older brother had changed. Bobby was right, Dean did trust this angel. Hell, in the small span of time, she ponders on the notion that they were more than buddies in arms. Maybe they were friends.

Smiling warmly, Ellen gestures widely at the coat. Really, whoever the angel was possessing had a bad taste in fashion. He looked like a tax accountant. "Relax. Take the coat off there Castiel."

Those foreign, alien eyes lock onto her, void of the confusion from before. "I am fine, thank you Ellen."

"My mom's right, Cas." Jo joins her mother, drying her hands on the towel. "You'd look a lot more  
handsome without that thing." A tiny smirk brightens her face as she tucks a strand of blond hair behind her ear. "Get a few girls…"

"I think I am good with meeting the girls," a blush ghosts across his face.

A protective fire swells in Ellen. Damn, she might as well be Wendy from Peter Pan cause it looks like she had gone and adopted another lost boy. She didn't know what Cas meant but she knows for certain Dean's involved somehow.

"Then how about we play a little game, huh?" Throwing out a hand, she pats the angel on the shoulder.  
"Get to know each other a bit better."

A spark of curiosity flares to life behind the blue sea as she catches the angel's attention. Ellen winks at Jo, who grins with the same mischief at knowing where her mother is going. "If I win, you take the coat off."

"And if I win?" His voice rings with such innocence, Ellen wants to hug him if not for the fact that he was anything but a few millennium years old.

"Oh you ain't gonna win," teases Ellen as she motions to a smaller table where Jo's setting up the shot glasses.

* * *

One tiny hop over the last step, Ellen gives herself a small mental pat the back. She successfully made it all the way down without making a sound. Its good know in these dark times that she hasn't lost her touch, despite getting old. Above her, Jo's sound asleep in master bedroom. Ellen finds herself shaking her head, reeling from the shock of Bobby letting them sleep there. Who knew the old gizzer was such a gentleman?

Halting in the hallway, she peers into the living room. Dull red flames crackle in the fireplace giving comforting warmth. Books, bottles and glasses litter everywhere from the early night partying. Eyes stop taking in the closed oak door, smirking at the deep snoring coming from Bobby's room. Shaking her head, Ellen turns to take in the Winchester boys.

Sam's sprawled all over the sofa, passed out before he could make the long trek upstairs. Long legs are dangling over the edges while one hand is resting awkwardly against the floor. Its companion drapes over his chest underneath a long blue quilt that has been tucked in with care. In the pale light, the tall young man seems almost like a child again. She had called Sam once after Dean's death. The broken voice was enough for her to race to him and cradle him to her chest. But by then, Sam had all but disappeared. So she comforted her daughter instead, allowing Jo to grow up under her watchful eye.

She travels her gaze to the large chair expecting to see Dean there, his legs spread out before him while his arms cross his chest. And like any good brother, there would be a loaded shot-gun by his side. If anything surprised her, Dean had. He had matured into this great hunter and a leader in an almost natural fashion that it scares her. All the cheeky goodness from his youth is gone replaced by a man with a very old soul.

Ellen sighs, pushing away the grief. Now is not the time to dwell on such things. She's here and that's what's important. Besides, Jo needs her and she wouldn't have left her daughter alone. Cursing her maternal instincts, Ellen glares at the empty chair wondering where the hell the boy was. She knows too well what Dean asked Jo and for a moment, she wanted to whack him so hard he would have been dizzy till kingdom come. But Jo made her proud, reminding her quietly that her baby was an adult.

Pivoting on her foot, the hunter quietly walks into the kitchen dead-set on getting a glass of water. All that drinking with the angel had put a damper on her sleep. Reaching out, she's about get the glass when soft words tug her attention towards the window. Creeping up to it, Ellen gazes out onto the small back porch eyes widening at the sight.

Sitting shoulder to shoulder on the stairs, Dean and Cas talk quietly in the still night air. The angel wears his trench coat and Ellen can't help but muse over the fact that he probably never takes the damn thing off unless someone pried it away from his cold dead fingers. Memories of the drinking game warm her body, fighting back the cold air seeping underneath the windowsill. She lost but somehow Ellen can't help but laugh that she could brag to random strangers or to her grandchildren that she had a drinking contest with an angel. At that moment, Cas turns his head to gaze upon Dean, his nose crinkling slighty in a repressed look she could have sworn was hurt pride.

Dean's green eyes brightened as he mouths something, lips quirking at the sides as if trying to repress his grin from growing any larger. Cas merely tilts his head slightly sideways, shaking his black locks with an expression that speaks volumes of his exasperation in trying to understand humans. And to her absolute surprise, Dean breaks into a full smile, happiness reaching his eyes. Quiet laughter racks his frame as he playfully nudges the angel.

Never in a hundred years would Ellen believe Dean to be so open with anyone besides Sam. Even with Bobby and her, Dean always tended to hide a certain part of himself. It was as if he was afraid that by letting someone in, it would end in disaster. Ellen couldn't blame Dean in the least, considering what had happened and how John raised his sons.

Cas drops his head as if he was tired of trying to understand Dean. As he said something low, Ellen feels her bones rumble in response. Her body tingles whenever she's near the angel and Jo felt the same thing. Bobby didn't hint at it, but it seemed the Winchesters were immune to their angel friend. With Sam, she feels the slight tension between them but they are trying silently to make amends. Yet, Dean didn't take Cas's morbid view with seriousness but instead with amusement. He is patient in explaining things whenever the angel seemed lost. He even took a great deal of energy in forcing the angel to try all the dishes despite Sam's protests.

Surprisingly, when a normal human would have snapped at Dean, Cas weathers the wild storm that's Dean Winchester with quiet grace. Each had reached a level where their quirks are a part of normal life ignoring the whole issue of one being an angel while the other had gone to Hell.

Groaning wood freezes Ellen in fear of being discovered. Merely, Dean shifts his position, hands rubbing down his arms. Of course the idiot had gone out there with only his shirt on and no jacket. Concern pools in the endless blue eyes while a small frown makes itself known. Ellen cheers in approval that Cas thinks the same thing. He speaks his admonishment earning a glare from Dean. Then a miracle happens. No matter how close she got him drunk, how she could just see the hint behind the excited face, Ellen watches as a pure, honest to God, smile spreads across the angel's smooth features.

It's one of the most beautiful things she has ever seen.

Blue eyes sparkle mischievously as a soft wind rustles the already spiked hair like feathers. Dean's face falls open, his surprise for all to see. Green eyes swell with pure joy as a smile to match is born. Ellen finds herself entranced as the two become lost to the world, having only eyes for each other. Wordless conversations speak from one soul to another though their windows of blue and green.

Ellen bits her lip, blinking back the sudden swell of tears. Reaching up she dabs the water away. And just like that, the moment is over. The unabashed happiness is tucked away deep, life hardens the faces aging the two well beyond their years. Dean sags, leaning into Cas's warmth, eyes falling into the tiny piece of wood between them. The angel doesn't seem mind, resting a hand onto the other man's back as if it always belonged there.

Dean mumbles something; Cas's fingers immediately digging into the tender flesh underneath. Whatever's spoken, Dean's sharp eyes snap upwards filled with a vulnerability she knew even Sam wasn't allowed to see. Words exchange so softly that the only sign of their passing is the small movement of their lips. The hopelessness in one is washed away by the faith of the other replaced by something Ellen only remembers in her dreams. When her husband would hold her tight and tell her everything was going to be ok.

Devotion. Trust. Love.

Dean nods weakly, turning once again this time to face the outdoors. Yet he remains close. The angel drops his hand, laying it properly in his lap as he too stares out into the ravaged landscape of the junkyard.

Stepping away from the window, Ellen releases a breath she didn't know she was holding. She always prayed for Sam and Dean to be able to escape from this life and live normal ones. She wanted both to have a family, have friends that didn't die or people you only meet once in a blue moon. She wanted to know that if she died that there was someone out there to take care of them.

And in a moment she can only describe as sacred, Ellen realizes Cas isn't just a friend to Dean. He is more than that, more than a guardian or ally. He's a soul mate, a true brother beyond the confines of blood. Smiling, she hugs herself, the coldness of the floor hitting her feet like a freight train. Forgetting about the glass of water, Ellen trudges back up the stairs, held back tears leaking out.

Who would have thought that on the eve of the Apocalypse, before a mission she would probably die in, her prayer has been answered. Maybe there is a God after all and when she meets him, she plans on giving him a big old hug before smacking him on the head and berating him on what took him so dang long.


End file.
